I’m so nervous as I push open the door that I leave frosty fingerprints in my wake.
It’s empty. Or at least, there are no people inside. Not Ezekiel. No techs. But something is wrong. This room should be a lab like the others, but instead it’s been cleared of all the standard equipment. Benches, lockers, all gone. What remains is a skeletal and scaled-down version of the Ziro Machine. Not our prototype, but not the finished version either. Like a Ziro Machine cobbled together with spare parts and duct tape. The final version we’re launching at the presentation is dense and about the size of a single-family bungalow. We had to clear out an entire wing of the lab building to make room for its assembly. The one here is about the size of a minivan, and while cables that have a circumference bigger than my arm are strung from it and lead out a door on the opposite side of the room, they’re too small to be part of the Ziro Machine’s transmission system.
Also, if the Ziro Machine were pulsing with light the way this machine is, we’d be declaring an emergency and evacuating the building. The light is definitely what was visible under the door, and it appears to somehow be contained, even though there are open spaces in the components that shouldn’t be there.
I step forward, squinting against the glow. Slowly, a shadow becomes visible, sort of like the way shapes come back into focusif you stare into a light for too long. It’s a person—a woman, actually. She’s wearing something that might be a hospital gown. Her hair lifts from her shoulders like she’s surrounded by static electricity.
As my eyes adapt further to the glow, shapes become more distinctive. Colours start to come through. The hospital gown is green. Her skin is so white it’s translucent and her hair is?—
My heart stops.
I close my eyes and turn my back on the machine and the form inside its chamber. I told Jasper that without the right parts to trap and convert collected energy, our machine could be dangerous. The void in front of me, uncontained and uncontrolled, should be getting ready to burn the building down, yet somehow, it’s not. Doesn’t mean I’m safe, though.
I turn back, blinking against the light. But it’s fading fast, and the last of the colours are settling into place, including the deep red of my mother’s hair.
She’s there. Suspended. Eyes closed, but it’s her, and my heart breaks and knits itself back together a million times in a single second.
“Mother?”
I stumble forward. She doesn’t respond, and I’m almost glad her eyes aren’t open to see how suddenly clumsy I am, my feet feeling wooden on the linoleum floor.
But she’s here.
I reach for her.
And my hand goes right through her.
I gasp, jerking back. “Mom?”
Her hair floats like she’s suspended in water, but when I go to brush it away from her face, my fingers slide through it too. I can almost feel... something. Not her. The air changes as I glide through the strands over and over. It feels thicker. Denser. But not solid, and she gives no indication that she feels me at all.
Vee. I need Vee. Or, if nothing else, Vee should be here. She should know. She thinks Mom’s dead and... Ezekiel. He needs to know too.
A chill settles over me. I don’t have to turn to know the cause. My plans and scattered thoughts all stop short because I’m no longer the only person in this room.
Like his own portable shadow, Indigo is standing behind me. His lightless shape shows off the outline of an immaculate suit. I’ve never been close enough to see the details, but whoever his supervillain tailor is deserves all the stars on an online review.
I don’t get a chance to run, call out, or even test my fickle powers. He’s already reaching for me, hand on my chest, and the burn pours in my veins as my heart stops.
I better wake up at Wench.
CHAPTER 18
Any blind date that starts with?—
My brain does something like a hard reset. I have to close my eyes, which allows me to relive the last twenty-four—or is it thirty-six?—hours in reverse. My mother’s floating body. The long hallway at the lab. The glowing board underneath Vee’s diner. The crushing loneliness watching Jasper’s sleepy face on my phone. The stickiness of his blood on my clothes. The way I held him as he died, the same way he’d held me that first night after the bus. He’d wiped my face with that awful green?—
My gaze skitters to the door, half afraid of what I’ll see, half afraid I won’t see it.
Vee comes up to the table. “You sure you don’t want something to eat? I could?—”
The green hat enters and I’m already moving. I leave my laptop and my coat behind because I want my arms free to throw myself around Jasper. His stubble scrapes at my neck as he holds me close.
“I’m so glad you’re back,” I say.
“Me too. Dying kinda sucked.” He lets me go long enough to frame my face before he kisses me and, yes, I definitely missed this. Jasper is an excellent kisser.
I glance over my shoulder and Vee is standing by my table, hands on her hips, bemused smile on her face. Someone mutters behind us about getting a room.
