Stealing Infinity, page 19
“Do I want to be here? In this lighthouse?” I scowl. “No, El. I much prefer my own bed. Which is where I was headed before you shoved a bag over my head.”
She continues to peer at me. Her gaze steady, even, giving nothing away. “At Gray Wolf, Natasha. Do you want to be here at the academy?”
Aside from the sizzle of flame meeting wax, and the gust of wind rattling the lighthouse windows, the room has fallen eerily silent.
“You do realize I wouldn’t even be here if it wasn’t for you. You set me up!” My voice screeches in a way that reveals my current state of anxiety, which only increases when I watch the way they all turn to one another, a silent message passing between them. “I mean, fine, maybe I made the ultimate choice to come to this island, but we both know it all started with you.”
“No one’s denying that,” Elodie says, her face flickering in and out of view. “But now, I’m going to let you choose again. And this time, Nat, the choice is entirely yours.”
63
The details of how they do whatever it is they’re about to do are not for me to know.
I’m strictly a participant.
Though apparently, they’re pretty serious about keeping the tradition alive, which means next time some unfortunate Green finds themselves here, I’ll be the conductor. Under Elodie’s guidance, of course.
Turns out, of all the Blues, Elodie’s been here the longest. Having been recruited over a decade ago when she was just five years old and Arthur rescued her from an abusive children’s home. He brought her to Gray Wolf to finish the usual schooling, along with a few other courses not normally taught.
To hear her tell it, Song was right. Elodie really does think of Arthur as her father, and she loves being a Blue. She could’ve taken a role as an instructor when she turned eighteen a few months back, but she’s come to enjoy the perks of her position too much to ever consider giving it up. What those perks are remain a mystery. Though she does go on to reveal I’m only her second recruit.
“I’m sorry for the series of events that brought you here.” She looks sincere, but then she’s good at convincing people to believe in her, so I know better than to trust it. “And yet, I don’t think you understand what a gift I’ve given you. I mean, here you have an all-inclusive trip to Oz with access to everything you’ve ever wanted, and in return, you act like an ungrateful twit. Even Song wasn’t nearly as big of a pain as you’ve been.”
I glance at Song, but her face betrays nothing.
“Why are you telling me this?” I ask, realizing it’s the most she’s ever revealed in our entire friendship. It’s also the most she’s ever spoken to me since I arrived. What I don’t say is that in the story of Oz, it turned out the wizard was a fraud.
“Because you’ve ascended way faster than anyone expected. It took Jago months just to make Yellow. And though I have my suspicions for how you managed to rise so quickly—”
“Yeah, like a sudden, unexplained vacancy—” Song starts, but with a harsh look from Elodie, she’s silenced. Which only hardens my resolve to follow up on that later.
“The point is, no one here believes you’ve done anything to earn it.”
“Earn what, exactly?” I look among them. “I’m still a Green, so I don’t know about this ascent you refer to—”
“You won’t be a Green tomorrow. If you’re still here, that is.”
“What are you saying?”
It’s then that Oliver speaks. “What would happen if tomorrow you were to take your first Trip?”
Remembering how Braxton told me about the time travel in confidence, I feign a look of confusion, like I have no idea what that could possibly mean. And honestly, I’m not sure I do. It still feels unbelievable to me.
“You’ll understand when it happens,” Oliver says. “But when you do go, you won’t be alone. You’ll be partnered with someone, and whoever that is—”
“Look,” Finn interrupts him, and though it strikes me as kind of abrupt, if not rude, Oliver just sinks back against the wall and takes it in stride. “Thing is—no one here wants to Trip with a partner they can’t trust, and according to Jago, you messed up today. A lot.”
I look to Jago, wondering what the heck he told them. He merely shrugs, as though daring me to deny it.
“I scored the jewel.” I glare hard at Elodie.
She nods. “And as impressive as that was, before you could even get to that part, you were incredibly sloppy and even tried to behead me.”
“I think we both know I wasn’t actually serious—” I start to defend myself, but Elodie won’t hear it.
“Not to mention how we all just watched you hyperventilate. Over nothing, I might add.”
“You seriously think that was noth—”
Again, she cuts me off. “Maybe your sloppy reactions aren’t a big deal when you’re here, but outside of Gray Wolf, in the places you’re going, panicking can prove fatal. Which means you seriously need to learn some real skills and get your emotions in check.”
“What are you even talking about?” I look from Elodie to the others, but they just stare back in stony silence. “I just got here,” I remind them. “I mean, what do you even expect from me? Like, I’m supposed to know how to waltz? You’ve seen where I came from.”
“What we expect is for you to try harder.” Elodie’s voice is as sharp as her gaze. “To stay in character. To blend in to whatever setting you find yourself in. To take the job seriously because it is serious. And more than anything, we expect you to help us get in and out without getting killed.”
“Or worse, tossed in jail,” Oliver adds.
“How is that worse?” Finn asks, his voice, like his face, full of dismay as he turns on Oliver.
“Have you even seen the jails? They’re filled with rats, and you have to choose a corner to shit and piss in. I’ll take the guillotine any—”
“Guys, please.” Elodie frowns. With a dramatic roll of her eyes and toss of her hair, she turns back to me. “You need to prove you’re committed. That you’re one hundred percent in, no looking back. Only then, will we agree to let you be an AAD.”
“What the hell is an AAD?” My voice rings throughout the space, echoing back at me.
Song starts to reply, when Elodie stops her. “You haven’t earned the right to know. You haven’t earned any of this. But you’re about to. Come on.”
64
With Elodie leading the way, we head up another flight of stairs that ends at the highest point in the lighthouse. There are windows all around that must allow for an amazing three-sixty view during the day, but with a storm beginning to brew, it all looks the same—black sea meeting dark sky.
Jago stands directly before me. His nervous expression is not at all reassuring. Also, now that I know he was gossiping about me, providing a blow-by-blow account of my flawed performance today, he’s clearly not the friend I hoped he would be.
Elodie stands beside Jago, while Song, Oliver, and Finn occupy three separate points along the wall.
“Don’t worry,” Elodie tells Jago. “She goes under really quickly.” She shoots me an approving look, but I get the feeling it has less to do with me, and more to do with the fact that she recruited me.
Jago raises a hand and tells me to focus on the pocket watch that dangles from his finger. Its case is gold, with a pearlized face and slim black hands that spin backward, unspooling the hours already lived.
“Just to be clear,” I say. “I’m not really going anywhere, right? This is all just theoretical?”
Elodie locks her gaze on mine, then signals to Jago, who begins to sing in a language I don’t understand. Though I do recognize the tune as the one from Elodie’s car. It’s the same song the torch singer sang at Arcana. The same song that played whenever I hung out with Elodie.
“This isn’t a real song,” I say. “Or at least not one you can stream. You made it up! You—”
“You’re so smart,” Elodie coos. “Now, shh…”
While Jago continues to sing—his voice surprisingly melodious—Song, Oliver, and Finn unlatch the panels lined up beneath all the windows and begin flipping a series of switches that sets the room buzzing.
I have the fleeting thought that for an old lighthouse, it’s surprisingly high tech. But then I find myself laughing for even thinking such a thing. Of course it’s high tech. It belongs to Arthur Bla—
Next thing I know, the roof of the lighthouse shifts open, filling the room with wind and fast droplets of rain that spill onto my head.
Arthur Blac—why can’t I remember his name?
Somewhere in the distance, I hear someone say, “You forgot to give her a talisman!”
“Not necessary,” Elodie says. “When the lion fawns upon the lamb, the lamb will never cease to follow him.”
Jago laughs, but I’m not sure why. I don’t know what any of that means, so I focus on the Gray Wolf logo hovering before me…something about alchemy…
Alchemy Black—No!
My lids feel droopy, but my feet have grown wings.
I’m dancing! I sing. I’m floating!
All around me, the wind funnels down from the sky and spins like a cyclone.
I want to tell Elodie to make it stop.
I want to shout the news to the rooftops: I’ve remembered the name, it’s Braxton Bla—
No! It’s Arthur Black—
A bright and terrible light fills up the sky. A horrible crack sounds overhead. And I dream a wonderful dream of clocks melting down walls, a torch singer wearing a crown of antlers, and a boy with eyes like the sea…
I’m floating—I’m really truly flying, and it’s—
“It’s really happening!” I whisper, as Elodie presses hard on my wrist.
65
In my dream, a beautiful boy stands before me. His mouth is moving, but I can’t hear the words.
Still, none of that matters. Everything will be okay. And I know this, because Elodie has promised as much.
“Tell me what you see?” she whispers.
I tell her a story about boys in slinky dresses and time melting down walls.
“Tell me more about the boy,” she urges. “The one standing before you.”
I turn my attention away from Elodie and back to him. “He wears a mask, but I can tell that he’s beautiful. And he’s offering me a drink. A green drink.”
“Do you accept it?”
I frown, trying to decide.
“No,” I tell her. “But it doesn’t matter. It was never about the drink.”
“How can you be sure?” she asks.
“Because I’ve dreamed this dream before. It’s about the song—the one the torch singer sings—the same one we sang in your car. It’s some sort of lullaby for the mind. Also, the clocks. It has something to do with hands that spin backward.”
“And now?” she asks. “Knowing everything you now know, do you leave the club and find your way home?”
I fall silent.
“Natasha?”
From somewhere far away, I’m aware of Elodie softly shaking my shoulder.
“Do you stay, or do you leave? Answer me, please.”
All around me, people are laughing, dancing, while waiters wander about with drink trays expertly balanced on their palms, the boys in slinky black dresses, the girls in tuxedos.
The beautiful boy offers me a glass of cut crystal, its contents a pale shimmering green.
“It’s called the Green Fairy.” He clinks his rim against mine. “To new beginnings,” he says, his voice rising over the noise.
I watch him drain his glass. Elodie pushes me to decide.
“Natasha, what are you doing? What are you seeing?”
“Is she okay?” another voice asks. The accent is Spanish, though it belongs to a voice from the future. It has no place here.
“I’m riding the wind!” I’m back in Elodie’s car. The top is down, my face pressed to the sky.
But now the beautiful boy is back. He leans toward me, lips just inches from mine.
“Natasha, where are you? What is happening?” She wants to know, but I’m too busy watching. This is the part I missed the last time I dreamed it.
The boy moves closer. He calls me darling, lifts me into his arms, and carries me through a crowded dance floor. He walks right through a swaying couple, and I watch in awe as they pixelate and fade from view. Next thing I know, we’re in a dim room where I watch Elodie toss my backpack to the ground.
“Told you,” she says, watching as he lowers me onto a couch. My body limp, my mind caught in a dream I’ve never dreamed.
She tips on her toes, tries to kiss the boy, but he pushes her away.
“Where are you?” Elodie prompts.
Time has gone missing and I’m desperate to find it. But I catch only glimpses of arrangements being made, two voices bickering, as I lie on the couch, my mind lost in a maze I can’t find my way out of.
“Come on, Nat. You can do this—tell me what you see.”
I’m climbing out of her car. We carpooled to school, but I’m still wearing the same dress I wore to the club.
She hands me a bag, tells me to dump all the contents into my locker, then go to my English class and sit at my desk.
Her final instruction: At precisely nine thirty-eight, I command you to wake.
“Nat, what happened—where are you?”
I swallow. My lips are so parched, my throat dry. “You set me up,” I tell her, but we already know that.
“Does that mean you stayed—a second time?”
“Told you she would,” the Spanish accent says.
“No you didn’t,” Elodie snaps.
I’m back in the club, Arcana, it’s called.
I pull the Wheel of Fortune card.
I laugh at my grave.
A beautiful boy in a mask offers me a Green Fairy.
“It was never about the drink,” I say.
“Even so, would you do it again? Knowing what you know—would you stay?”
I think of Mason, and immediately feel an ache deep in my belly. I miss his elaborate outfits, his sarcastic humor. I miss making fun of the snooty spin-class moms, and playing a round of Anywhere but Here.
I think of my mom, and a sob threatens to cave in my chest.
“Would you do it again—or would you leave?”
I watch the boy drain his glass.
“I would stay,” I tell her.
The moment I say it, the dream disappears, and I feel myself falling through space.
66
I wake to the sound of buzzing.
Really loud buzzing that’s soon followed by pounding.
A moment later, the room floods with light.
“Tasha!”
A whispered voice.
A hand on my shoulder.
A face looming so close to mine.
“What happened? Are you okay?”
I flip onto my belly and bury my face in a soft feathered pillow, but the voice sounds again. “Tasha, please—look at me.”
Inside my head, a storm rages. I inhale a ragged breath and will it to pass.
“I left a ton of messages and—”
With a sigh, I roll onto my back and inch up the headboard, as Braxton takes in the state of my matted hair, the dress I was wearing last night that I apparently slept in.
“Aw shit,” he whispers, and draws me tightly to him. “I can’t believe she’s still doing this.”
I pull back, run a finger under each eye, and stare in dismay when it comes away streaked with mascara.
“You knew, and you didn’t warn me?” My voice is a rasp, my throat so parched, Braxton immediately reaches for the glass of water I keep by my bed and hands it to me.
“She swore she was done with all that. I should’ve known better than to believe her.”
I look beyond the drapes he must’ve opened. Outside, it’s raining.
I look inside my head and replay the reel of Braxton and Elodie bickering over broken promises, bitter memories, things that happened long before me, while I lay on the couch, my fate in their hands.
But that was true only the first time. Because last night, the choice was mine, and I still ended up here. Strangely, despite everything that’s happened, I know I’d make the same choice again.
I return the glass to my bedside table and train my focus on him. Carefully noting the hint of shadow that swoops under each eye, the tight pinch that pulls at the corners of his mouth. And even though I take my time to study his face, I still can’t determine if it’s worry or guilt that’s got him looking this way.
“You didn’t Trip, if that’s what you’re thinking,” he says. “Arthur stopped using the lighthouse ages ago. It’s outdated technology.”
“Looked pretty high tech to me.” I tear my gaze away and turn toward the window, tracking the long ribbons of rain as they stream down the panes.
“Maybe in the outside world, which is totally obsolete,” Braxton says. “But this place, with its natural elements combined with Arthur’s genius, is a century ahead, at least.”
“What are you saying?” Returning to him, I gather my knees to my chest and wrap my arms around them, as though I need to fend off whatever comes next, even though I’m the one who asked.
“In short, Gray Wolf Island is a natural wormhole that acts as a portal to the past.” He speaks cleanly, plainly, and while it makes sense on the surface, my mind is in a tangle trying to process his words. “But, in order to securely harness that energy, Arthur developed an advanced technology that not only keeps the wormhole open long enough for a safe departure and return, but also allows him to direct it toward specific moments in time.”
“And the lighthouse?”
“It’s where the phenomenon was first discovered when all the lighthouse keepers went missing.”
