“Oh,” Henry says, and the word comes out with an exhale. “Your father is a traveler.”
“And that means?” I ask.
“I don’t know.” He tilts his head toward Max. “But I imagine he does.”
The quiet in the house turns oppressive and flavors the air with a mustiness that’s thick against my tongue. For a moment, I’m not sure Max will elaborate. He takes a few breaths, clears his throat, and even then, I’m not certain he’ll speak until he does.
“You, sweetheart, are a gateway walker.”
I don’t know what this means, but Henry leans forward, comprehension lighting his expression. His mouth makes an O of understanding as Max continues.
“Under the right circumstances, you can pass from your dimension to mine and back again. You’re a paradox and should not exist. That you do is on me and your mother, I suppose. We brought you into existence. And when it was clear, when we knew what you were, I was supposed to…”
Max trails off, the anguish in his eyes like nothing I’ve ever seen. “And I couldn’t, couldn’t. So I chose eternal exile over the mortal sin of ending my own daughter’s life.”
I don’t need the Sight to know these words are true.
He leans forward, head bowed, a palm planted on the coffee table as if he can’t bear to look at me, can’t bear the weight of the guilt he carries. I want to cross to this man, my father, and hug him. But I think if I did so, he might shatter. After a moment, I inch my hand forward and cover his.
The skin is rough, crisscrossed with scars. I slip to my knees so I can peer up at him. “I’m glad you didn’t,” I say, hoping my voice conveys my gratitude, my renewed love for a man I nearly forgot after all these years. “For both of us.”
Max manages a laugh, the sound tinged with sorrow.
“Oh, of course,” Henry murmurs, seemingly to himself. “Betrothals.”
Max laughs again, this time sharper, with the cunning I’ve come to expect. “Adding up for you now, Darnelle?”
Henry appraises my father as if he’s come to both expect and accept all the rough edges. “Indeed.”
I, on the other hand, am completely lost. Betrothals? “I don’t understand,” I begin, but trail off because suddenly, I think I do understand.
“All these decades, all these centuries,” Henry says, “the Enclave has been trying to manipulate genetics?—”
“Eugenics, if you want to be precise,” Max adds.
“In order to create someone like you,” Henry says to me. “Someone who can travel through a gateway and then return.”
“And it’s a fool’s sort of enterprise. The Enclave would be better off if they simply let agents procreate within the communities they protect. They’re more likely to stumble across the trait that way.”
“Did you know it would happen?” I ask.
Max shakes his head. “We knew it was a possibility, but even then, it’s not a certainty. We only realized when your Sight began to manifest, and you started talking about fairy lights in the woods by the covered bridge.”
My gaze meets Henry’s. I catch a hint of how panicked he was back at the covered bridge, how I must have scared him.
“The fairy lights. I know it doesn’t make sense, but I thought they would lead me home.”
“In a sense, they would. They’d lead you straight through to my dimension. And that’s the last place you should be.”
“Why?”
“Because we’re not kind when it comes to travelers. When one falls through and is discovered, and trust me, they’re always discovered, we isolate them. An asylum, I suppose, is the best way to describe it. Although, to be fair, they do get to live out their natural life.”
“And gateway walkers?” My heart pounds as if it knows the answer already.
Something crackles in the air, something full of static and blood.
“They’re euthanized.”
