She keeps petting me. I have to clench my teeth together to resist biting her again.
“I’m sure you’re wondering about all those steps,” she says. “Sometimes it’s hard to remember how unimaginative I was at your age. There are other entrances to this place, pretty girl. Do you think I wanted to spend my next life trudging up and down three thousand steps? If you and your Bishop had walked around the temple and looked carefully, you would have found a normal entrance that leads right to this very spot. No symbol required, no steps involved.”
She called it a temple. Just like Aramovsky did.
My head hurts so bad…it feels like my brain has been crushed and smashed, and this sense of failure is making it worse.
“Coyotl and Beckett were overwritten,” I say. “Is Muller still alive?”
“You sending those three out was a wonderful break for us. And with a functioning pentapod, no less. Little Victor Muller is locked up in an Observatory prison cell, where he’ll stay until we retake the shuttle. We will take the shuttle up to the Xolotl instead of the awful ship we came down in. Aramovsky said you didn’t take any joy rides, fortunately, so there should be enough fuel for the return trip.”
The taller of the two Grownups on the pedestal platform calls out: “We are ready.”
That’s the woman. Her voice, so old, yet so familiar…
Please, don’t let it be her…please don’t let it be her…
“Is that Spingate?”
Matilda laughs. “Spingate was on Brewer’s side. I had Bishop cave in her skull with one of those silly tools she liked so much. Don’t worry, pretty girl—Aramovsky will make sure your Spingate is armed and in the first wave he sends against the vermin.”
“No! You can’t make her fight—she’s pregnant!”
“Amazing,” Matilda says. “You hormone-engorged little brats didn’t waste any time, did you? Rutting around like animals. How about you, Em?” She spits my name like it’s a curse word. “Were you a sinful slut like Theresa? Did you steal my virginity from me?”
“I didn’t do anything. I don’t know about anyone else, just Spingate and Gaston.”
“What?”
The word is a shout—commanding, insistent—that comes from the pedestal platform. The little Grownup steps onto the floor and walks toward us. He stops next to Matilda.
“Captain,” she says. I’m surprised to hear respect in her voice…does this tiny man intimidate her?
He stares down at me through his mask, two red eyes thrumming with excitement and intensity.
“The Spingate shell is pregnant with my child?”
I don’t know what to say. Will they want to kill her and the baby, or will the truth keep her off the battlefield? This creature is a thousand years old, but there has to be some bit of the Gaston I know still in there.
I nod.
He turns to Matilda. “I will tell Aramovsky to bring her to me.” Without waiting for an answer, he walks off into the shadows.
One-eyed Matilda seems rattled. She gestures to the platform, to the lone Grownup standing there.
“Obviously, that is not Theresa Spingate,” Matilda says. “But I’m sure you know this one’s shell. May I present the lovely and talented Doctor Kenzie Smith?”
The Grownup on the platform bows stiffly. She starts to stand, then freezes, a gnarled hand going to her back.
“Oh,” she says. “Dammit, that hurts.” She slowly straightens, holds on to a pedestal for balance. “Let’s get this started. I need to sit down soon.”
Matilda rubs her nasty hands together. The skin is so rough I can hear it.
“Finally, we’re ready,” she says.
“Not you, Matilda,” Smith says. “I’m afraid Bishop hit your shell on the head a little too hard. There could be a concussion. We have to wait so that I can make sure there isn’t any damage I need to fix first.”
Matilda’s one eye swirls madly. She’s furious. She glares at someone in the corner. I crane my head up to see: the hulking form of Old Bishop. He’s been standing there the entire time, silent, unmoving.
“You stupid oaf,” she says to him. “I told you to be careful.”
I hear concern in her hiss of a voice, perhaps even fear. Brewer said the longer we were alive, forming our own memories and connections, the less chance the process had of working. But it worked on Bello, Coyotl and Beckett, so it will likely work on me—unless my grinding headache causes problems, somehow.
“I’ve waited so long,” Matilda says. “A few hours more won’t matter.”
She gives my hair a final pat.
“Since you’ve been so difficult, my dear, let’s watch something together while we wait. Kenzie, open it.”
The golden coffin to my left makes the same sound mine made. The sides lower. My heart shatters. I want to wake up, I want all of this to be a horrible dream.
It’s O’Malley.
He’s lying on white linen, held down by the same kind of bars that hold me. He’s blinking, just coming awake.