I shook my head. “He won’t leave Ibby, no matter what you say. Even if you did manage to convince him, it would poison the two of us for him to leave now.” If I haven’t irreparably poisoned us already.
“I see,” Marion said. “You’re probably right. I like Rocha, but he’s got issues to work through.”
“Don’t we all?”
She smiled and didn’t answer.
“Should I say good-bye to him?” I asked it as a straightforward question, because in all honesty I was at sea with this, with all the tidal sweep of emotion in this moment. I hadn’t seen Luis since we’d fought and caused each other such pain, but I hadn’t ceased thinking of him, and aching within for the anguish we’d caused each other. “Would that be ... kind?”
“Not to you,” Marion said. “But it might be the right thing to do, yes.”
“And Isabel?”
“She’s asleep,” Marion said. “I wouldn’t wake her up, but you can look in on her.”
And if she woke, what then? What excuse would I give to avoid seeing the betrayal and disappointment on the child’s face? Would I lie to her to save myself the discomfort?
The hard fact was that when I left, she, like Luis, would see me as a traitor—as the villain she had secretly believed I was. And that was my personal burden, because I could not stay here. I could not allow my personal feelings to get in the way of my duty.
Did that make me cold? Perhaps, from a human perspective. I couldn’t think of it in such terms anymore, not if I hoped to prevent the ghastly atrocities I saw here at this school.
“Cassiel?” Marion raised her eyebrows.
“I think I’ll rest first,” I said.
I left, but tired as I was, I was unwilling to take the opportunity to sleep. I found myself wandering the school, watching the children sleeping, or at play, or studying. They looked normal, much of the time, the way Isabel did when watching her movies or playing her games. It was the flashes of ungovernable temper that were dangerous—or unstoppable fear. Those were the things that Pearl had woken in these children—or perhaps they were normal enough, except when paired with the fearfully strong gifts she’d woken as well. I saw Mike, as always serving as Gillian’s protective shadow; I watched Elijah with his beautiful, brilliant smile charming his tutors, until the clouds once again crept over him and anxiety made him difficult to manage. I was standing in the corner, observing but not taking part, when Shasa entered the room, spotted me, and drifted in my direction. I thought she might be inclined to needle me, but she only leaned against the wall beside me, crossed her arms, and finally said, “You’re probably wondering where their parents are.”
I hadn’t been, surprisingly, but now that it occurred to me I did wonder. Luis was so protective of Isabel—was that not the normal human condition, to be concerned for one’s own?
I lifted a single shoulder in response. Shasa jerked her chin at Elijah. “Orphans,” she said. “All orphans. Every one of them. Parents killed in the Djinn rebellion, or in accidents, or in storms, fires, earthquakes ... the usual fate of Wardens, sure. But every one of the children Pearl really focused on was an orphan, including your Ibby. Ever wonder why?”
I considered it now. “Because it’s easier to twist a child who has no roots,” I said. “No one to care. No one to watch. No one to fight for her.”
“Oh, believe me, we care,” Shasa said. “We watch. We fight. And if I ever see that bitch, I’ll make her understand that we’re a community, we Wardens. We stick together.” She sent me a sidelong look. “Maybe you can tell her next time you see her. From me.”
“Yes,” I said. “Perhaps I will explain it to her in great detail.”
“Is it true she’s one of you? One of the Djinn?”
“Not anymore,” I said. “But then, neither am I, if you wish to be technical.”
“So you say.” Shasa seemed unimpressed. “My aunt seems to like you. She doesn’t trust you, though. Seems that nobody trusts you, really. Including your own Warden.”
“How do they feel about you?” I asked.
She laughed. “About the same. I don’t go out of my way to be liked. Never seen much point in it.”
We had that in common, it seemed. After a moment, Shasa pushed off from the wall and walked to Elijah, who was wavering between smiles and tears, and when he saw her his face simply lit up with joy.
There was much to be said for the judgment of a child, I thought. And for not much caring about the opinions of others.
“Shasa,” I said as she lifted Elijah in her arms. “I’ll be leaving soon.”
“Yeah, I heard. I’m planning a party, with cake and balloons. You’re not invited, though.”
“Look out for them,” I said. “All of them.”
She looked up, holding a laughing Elijah on her hip, and frowned. “You got something to tell me? Something I should know?”
“Nothing definite, or I’d stay. But—it’s too good a target, this place. These children.”
“Yeah,” Shasa said. “I know. We all know. But keeping them separately wasn’t helping. At least together they can help each other. We haven’t got a lot of choices.”
I definitely understood that, but I still couldn’t silence the tremor of doubt deep within that had started upon first glimpsing this place. They’d located it far from a ley line, which was a part of the network of aetheric forces that allowed Pearl to establish footholds and compounds for her own misguided followers. There were no obvious signs that Pearl’s people were even aware of this location, and yet ...
And yet.
I couldn’t wait for the fight to come here, not with so many fragile lives at risk. I had to act first, and as aggressively as possible.
That meant abandoning Ibby, and Luis, and destroying all that I’d worked so hard to build with them.
And it hurt.
My God, it hurt.
I went to say my good-byes to Luis. His door was closed, and I knocked. I heard a rustle of sheets inside, but nothing else.
I knocked louder, and then I turned the knob.
Locked.
I snorted. That was only a token gesture—he knew perfectly well that a lock couldn’t keep me out if I wished to come in. I snapped it and repaired it as soon as the door swung in, and shut it behind me. The room was dark, but after a second there was a click, and the bedside lamp flickered on to illuminate Luis, propped up on pillows, staring at me.
I felt nothing from him. He’d closed himself off. Only the quiet whisper of the connection between us was left, but nothing came through it to indicate to me what he was feeling.
“Come for the big scene?” he asked. “Sorry. I’m all out of drama. I thought you were leaving already.”
“I am,” I said.
“So go.”
“I will. I came to see you first.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t want to talk about it. Locked door doesn’t mean anything to you?”
“It means you’re angry.”
“Damn straight I’m angry. Christo, woman, how you think I ought to feel, like twirling on a mountaintop and singing? How you think Ibby’s going to feel when I tell her you dumped us?”
“I think she’ll feel very hurt,” I said. “Especially if you lie to her about my motives.”
He sat up, and the sheet slid down his bare chest. The light seemed to be devoured in the dark shadows of his flame tattoos that ran up both arms. His voice came low and almost savagely rough. “You’d better not mean that, chica. You’d better not say I’m a liar, because you’re the one leaving, not me.”
“If you tell her that I’m dumpingthe two of you, you’re lying,” I said. “You’re lying to yourself, and to her, and that’s unforgivable. I’m not turning my back on you out of some petty disagreement. I’m fightingfor you.”