The light isn’t out. The glow is still visible on the far wall. But none of it shines toward me, obliterated by the shadowless void that is Indigo.
He’s standing at the desk where Ezekiel was a moment before. Panic washes over me like an icy wave. No, not panic. Power. The tiny dogwood at my feet has turned to brittle ice as I gathered energy on reflex. Indigo. I may have to fight Indigo to save Ezekiel. Unless he’s already dead? It could happen that quickly.
I hold still, hoping Indigo can’t see me beneath the windowsill. The closest exterior light is by the driveway, so I shouldn’t be visible through the window, especially with Indigo blocking the light at the desk.
Slowly though, he raises a hand. I flinch, because if he’s seen me, I’ll be dead—and painfully—in the snap of a finger. But instead, he claps his hands together, and suddenly the room gets brighter again.
Indigo is gone. If I’d hoped to avoid the truth, it’s too late for me now. My reasoning has failed because, once again, Ezekiel is standing at his desk, while the traces of black-hole shadows swirl around him and slowly evaporate. He turns, and our gazes meet through the window. His eyes flicker with surprise for the barest of seconds. I can only guess what he sees on my face, but it’s not good. There’s no way to hide what I know.
My heart hammers at the truth I can’t avoid anymore. Because Ezekiel is Indigo.
He rushes to the window, and even through the glass, I can hear him shout my name. My heart is pounding so hard in my chest I’m dizzy. Ezekiel rushes toward the window, trails of inky smoke following in his wake. My ears are ringing. He shakes his head, like he’s trying to deny what I’ve seen with my own eyes, and reaches out to me.
But as his hand presses against the glass, he disappears, and Indigo replaces him, a void in the warm light and sumptuous surrounding of Ezekiel’s study. I swallow hard, waiting for the click of his fingers and the rush as my body shuts down, but it doesn’t come.
My hand is not my own, though, as I raise my arm and touch the window, my palm pressed where Ezekiel’s, where Indigo’s is. I stare where his eyes should be. What would I see if he wants an empty nothingness? Still the same regret? Shame? Derision that I couldn’t see what was in front of me the whole time?
Cold purpose settles over me and I open myself up. Instead of taking Jasper’s hurt, I imagine taking Indigo. Saving Ezekiel. Maybe if I can separate them, then?—
I realize my mistake immediately. It should have been plain from the start. Because the second Indigo’s energy slips inside me, every part of me shrinks away. I’m a split second away from the most unimaginable pain, and I yank my hand back, breaking the connection. But it’s not enough. My insides turn sour, and I can practically feel them rotting. I’m contaminated. Even that tiny moment of contact—and even with the separation of the glass—leaves me feeling polluted. I choke on it as I tumble backward to the grass. As I fall, Indigo vanishes and Ezekiel is there again. The expression on his face is fearful.
Sucks to be him, but it sucks to be me more.
Because now he knows I know.
I don’t know what will happen if I stay here, letting the virus of Indigo spread inside me, but I don’t intend to find out. I hold Ezekiel’s gaze as I imagine the ice taking me. It forms a hard case around the tainted parts of me that Indigo has touched, then I push it outward, over my organs, my muscles and bones. My heart slows, and I lie back, already planning next steps.
When Jasper and I start again, we’re going to have to act quickly.
CHAPTER 21
He’s late.
And we’re running out of time.
My heart is beating so fast I feel shaky. I glance anxiously at the mural overhead, but this time, instead of avoiding eye contact with my mother, I look directly at Indigo.
Did she know?
She couldn’t have.
Indigo’s chin is tilted back from the impact of a punch that happened a split second before the painter captured the moment. Is it really Ezekiel in all those shadows? Have I been staring up at a marital dispute this whole time? Mother would have been livid if she’d known. She’d have done more than punch him.
“You sure I can’t?—”
“Not now!” I shout, making Vee jump back. Heads turn toward me. She looks alarmed, and I can’t blame her.
“Sorry,” I say. “Sorry, just nervous. About my date. Whatever you want to make will be great.”
She gives me a look that says she doesn’t appreciate my outburst in her place of work. I go to apologize again but catch myself. There isn’t time to explain what I’ve seen. Jasper will behere soon, he’ll be dead again not much longer after that, and it turns out the stepfather who has been my rock for the last two years killed my mother and is probably responsible for my and Jasper’s deaths too.
When he finally comes in the door, he looks awful. Even his hat is worse than usual.
“You look terrible,” he says as he sits down. I can’t possibly look worse than he does, but I smooth down my shirt and sweater, wrinkling my nose. Technically I only put them on this morning, and fortunately every time the day resets, whatever stains are on the material vanish. But equally as technically I’ve been wearing the same thing for an eternity. If we ever get out of here, I’m going to burn this outfit.
But never mind my wardrobe. We have more important issues to contend with right now.
“Indigo is Ezekiel.”
