EPILOGUE
THE GRASSLANDS
Feelings are memories. Memories are also feelings. I know now that what we feel is all we have. It’s the only thing we have that the House of Lords never will.
I want to remember everything, as we follow the old Route 66 east through the dark heat of the Mojave Desert in the evening. The desert hides the last remaining Rebellion Choppers; Fortis says we’ll ride all the way to Nellis, to meet the one waiting for us. Our donkeys are slow and tired, but we don’t stop moving, and I don’t stop remembering, and feeling.
Clouds settle and sit on the tops of the mountains like hats, like curls. They hang low over the sandy scrub, shadows unfolding on the rolling hills beneath them. There is gray and green and silver in the brush, earth appearing only beneath and between the growth. In front of me, a red-brown dirt road leads to red-brown dirt hills in the distance.
As we ride it grows darker. Everything divides and aligns into neat lines, same as the headless mountains. Snow falls on the dirt hillsides in white stripes. Across the valley, on the other side of highway lines and power lines, white snow and red dirt line the sides of the plateau mountain. Bits of white fluff appear on cactus tops, on brush.
We reach the sign for Death Valley. The hand-cut sign is old, a lone piece of debris from a less complicated age, before The Day.
Then I think of the book in my satchel, the one that Sympas have killed for and Grass have died for. The one Fortis gave back to me, only days ago. The one I’ll carry with me, wherever this road takes me.
The others are waiting for us on horses of their own, the Desert Grass. As we take the turnoff to their camp, Furnace Creek, I think again of the sign, how old it looks. Like an important memory I don’t have, from a family trip I never took. A place I might have visited along with my brothers, had things been different.
It doesn’t matter anymore, whether it happened to me or not. It happened to some of us, so it happened to me. I know that now. I accept it.
It’s who I am.
I remember it, the same way I remember Chumash Rancheros Spaniards Californians Americans Grass The Lords The Hole.
Maybe Tima is right to have that tattoo. Maybe there is such a thing as a world soul, after all.
I remember it all.
I remember my parents, my brothers, the ache of the not-knowing. The Padre and the Mission and Ramona Jamona. Bigger and Biggest at La Purísima. Doc. Fortis. Silver-haired Tima at the lunchroom table. Ro falling asleep next to me, warm as sunshine. Lucas with a smile on his lips and clouds in his eyes.
More than anything, I remember this feeling.
I want to remember this feeling.
I remember hope.
EMBASSY TELEGRAM
CLASSIFIED TOP SECRET
From: GAP Miyazawa
To: All Icon Ambassadors
Notice of Promotion
Colonel Virgil William Catallus has been assigned the position of Acting Ambassador, Los Angeles Projects.
Military presence will be increased until the Rebellion can be put down, and the Projects are complete.
We will not be stopped short of our Unification goal.
Ambassador Leta Amare has been found guilty of Treason and sentenced to Death, by order of the House of Lords, Origin Office, Commanding Lord Null. Acting Ambassador Catallus will execute the sentence at his discretion.
May Silence Bring Her Peace.
For more great reads and free samplers visit
www.LBYRDigitalDeals.com
and join our communities at:
Facebook.com/LittleBrownBooks
Twitter.com/lbkids
theNOVL.com
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
SPECIAL THANKS TO MY OWN PERSONAL ICONS
Icons was represented by the always wise Sarah Burnes at The Gernert Company, who was in turn helped by the ever clever Logan Garrison. Internationally represented by the inexhaustible Rebecca Gardner and Will Roberts. Represented for film by the steady-handed Sally Willcox, CAA.
Edited by the incomparable Julie Scheina, as assisted by the tireless Pam Garfinkel. Editorially directed by the generous Alvina Ling. Art directed by the talented Dave Caplan. (That cover! That cover!) Cover font designed by the innovative Sean Freeman. Guided through copyediting and proofreading by the (oh so!) patient Barbara Bakowski. Publicized by the fearless Hallie Patterson, overseen by the savvy Melanie Chang. Marketed by the always original Jennifer LaBracio. Supported for libraries and schools by the one-of-a-kind (two-of-a-kind?) Victoria Stapleton and Zoe Luderitz. Published by Megan Tingley and VP Andrew Smith, each iconic in their own ways.
Adopted and adapted for film by my genius friends at Alcon Entertainment, Broderick Johnson and Andrew Kosove; and at 3 Arts, Erwin Stoff; and at Belle Pictures, Molly Smith, who were happily willing to continue the partnership we began with the Beautiful Creatures movie.
Read and reconsidered in all its draft-y infancy by–chronologically, FYI–Kami Garcia, Melissa Marr, Raphael Simon, Ally Condie, Carrie Ryan, and Diane Peterfreund. Thank you all!
Promoted online by Victoria Hill, Giant Squid Media (“Get Kracken!”). Photographed for the Web by Ashly Stohl.
Cajoled into being by Dave Stohl, Burton Stohl, and Marilyn Stohl, Virginia Stock, Jean Kaplan, the Cabo Collective and all the rock star readers, librarians, teachers, students, journalists, and bloggers who have supported me ever since the Beautiful Creatures novels.
Ensured production continuity via the Linda Vista Local 134: Melissa de la Cruz, Pseudonymous Bosch, and Deb Harkness, with help from P, N, and I. Via the NY chapter: Hilary Reyl, Gayle Forman, Lev Grossman, and the (even honorary) Punks. Via the SC/GA chapter: Jonathan Sanchez, Vania Stoyanova, and everyone at YALLFest.
Special thanks to Dr. Sara Lindheim for her Latin translation expertise.
And, of course, special thanks to my brilliant family, Lewis, Emma, May, and Kate Peterson, and my Motel Stohl honorary family–you know who you are–who always have been and always will be the whole point.