Coming within touching distance of the fog, she tosses the anchor overboard and pulls the resonance suit over her clothes. It covers her body from head to toe, and has a perspex screen to see through.
‘This is suicide,’ I say. ‘There has to be another way.’
‘The other way was silencing Hui before she could tell Hephaestus that I murdered his mother, but that failed. He’s going to find out what I’ve done and he’s going to kill me,’ she replies, terrified.
‘He cares for you.’
‘He won’t even see me. You know what his rages are like. He’ll beat me to death the way he did that vulture.’
Going to the bow, she leans over the top of it, her fingers only inches from the deadly fog. The glowing insects press against the edge, mimicking the shape of her splayed hand.
There’s a small black display on the wrist of the suit and she wakes it up with a tap. Symbols appear as diagnostics are run, testing its integrity and systems.
‘The future is being written right now,’ I say. ‘Everything matters, every life. If you die here, there’s nobody left to monitor the pods that grow the villagers. You’ll be damning them to extinction.’
‘I don’t care. I never have.’
‘What about Ellie?’
‘She’ll be safe in Blackheath. Once the fog hits the island, Hephaestus will have no choice but to take shelter in the cauldron garden. I’ll be able to come and go as I please.’
‘Please, Thea –’
‘We don’t need to talk any more, Abi. I’m finally getting off this island. If the cost of that was Niema’s life, it was a bargain.’
It takes thirty seconds for the suit to finish its checks. There’s a crackle, the material stiffening ever so slightly. The glowing insects that were mimicking her hand flicker, then go out completely, drifting down into the water.
‘It’s working,’ says Thea triumphantly.
A tremor of excitement runs through her; the thrill of a battle won before it’s even begun.
Scrambling to the back of the boat, she heaves the anchor back inside, then picks up the oars and pushes forward.
The bow enters the fog, then the first seat. Finally, she passes across the threshold, staring around in wonder.
‘It’s beautiful,’ she gasps.
From within, the fog is a golden, shimmering solar system. Electricity crackles between the insects, which are swirling around her, kept away by the field being emitted by the suit.
‘It’s working,’ she screams, stamping her feet in joy. ‘It’s working.’
The control panel shudders on her wrist, alerting her to a fault. Power is draining much more quickly than it should.
The luminosity of the insects starts to increase.
‘You have to go back,’ I say.
‘I can fix it,’ she replies, stubbornly tapping at the screen, trying to locate the problem.
The suit vibrates its concern.
Glancing up from the panel, she notices that the insects have coalesced into a great ribbon of yellow flame, which is lashing towards her.
‘Turn around, Thea,’ I say urgently.
She picks up the oars, as the insects start drumming against the suit, sizzling against its resonance field, only to be replaced by thousands more.
Lights flash red on the control panel.
‘Hurry,’ I say. ‘Once the field collapses, there’s only a layer of material between you and the swarm.’
She can’t hear me any more.
The insects cover her so densely, that their fierce light is blinding even with her eyes shut.
She’s hyperventilating, swiping futilely at her attackers as the suit alarms whine.
Any second now, the field will fail and she’ll be torn apart.
As she stumbles back in panic, her head hits the edge of the seat with a sickening thud, knocking her unconscious as the suit whines around her.
SIXTY-SEVEN
By the time Emory reaches the red flags marking the boundary of the farms, she’s dreaming of a bed she may never get to sleep in again. The fog is glowing so brightly that it looks like the sea’s been set ablaze. She thinks she sees a boat rowing towards it, but it’s much too dark to make it out clearly.
Emory’s hidden Hui in the medical bay where she found her. It’s risky, but her pulse was much too weak to move her further. Emory’s desperately hoping that Thea doesn’t think to go back.
‘Thea,’ she repeats, under her breath.
That wasn’t who she suspected of Niema’s murder, but everything Thea’s done tonight suggests Emory got it wrong. After all, Thea almost certainly killed Adil, and she tried to silence Hui. Surely that means she’s responsible for Niema’s death, but …
There are so many questions it doesn’t answer. Emory’s dogged by ideas and suspicions, facts without a home, desperate to find a place. Half-known things cast strange shadows across her mind.
She’s roused from her thoughts by a plume of flame rising above the village walls, black smoke shading the dark air.
Using the last of her energy, she sprints along the coastal path, then through the gate into the rear yard, where the infirmary is burning uncontrollably. Flames are dripping out of the windows, and scrambling across the roof. Even from here, the heat is unbearable.
‘Thought that would get your attention,’ says Hephaestus, emerging from the gloom.
Emory takes a step back, her legs turning to wood underneath her. He has Jack’s knife in his hand, and is making no effort to disguise his intentions. She expected him to betray her, and had prepared for it, but this isn’t like the fear she felt when the boat sank, or when they walked through the plants. This is primaclass="underline" the mouse under the owl’s shadow, knowing what’s coming, knowing it’s always been coming, and that fate designed it this way.
‘I can’t let Thea put that extractor on you,’ he says. ‘She can’t know about the bodies in the infirmary, or that I was involved in my mother’s experiments. She’d try to stop me, and then I’d have to kill her.’
Emory’s breathing hard, becoming dizzy as black spots ink her sight.
‘Think about your daughter and the people you love,’ I say firmly. ‘Stick to your plan. If you die here, everybody dies with you.’
Emory squeezes her eyes shut, imagining Clara asleep in the lighthouse. She thinks about Jack, trapped in his body, and the fog rolling towards the island.
‘Run at the thing that frightens you, Emory,’ I urge.
She opens her eyes, staring at the flame-wreathed monster striding towards her. Hephaestus has the answers she needs, and he’ll talk when he thinks he’s in control.
‘I think Thea’s responsible for Niema’s murder,’ she calls out.
That brings him up short. He rubs his hand over his scalp, uncertainly.
‘I know,’ he snarls. ‘I woke up with my mother’s shattered memory gem by my bed. I saw the argument between them. Thea would only have been that angry if she found out about Blackheath.’
‘Why haven’t you done anything about it?’ Emory demands.
‘Kill her you mean?’ he asks, with a raised eyebrow. ‘That’s a lot of bloodlust for a villager, isn’t it?’
‘I just want to understand,’ she says pleadingly.
He puffs out his cheeks, shaking his head. ‘My mother’s dead because she refused to explain herself to anybody, even Thea. When the world ended, I saw what we became up close.’
He lifts his shirt, showing her the patina of burns and badly healed scars covering his body.
‘I got every one of these from another human being, and not because their survival depended on it, or because I was a threat to them. They hurt me for no other reason than because they wanted to.’