Nate thought of Reed and the girls upstairs on the roof, keeping Pixel distracted from the rooms of sick people—and Alden. He wasn’t the only one who would benefit if Ivy and Alden succeeded. Pixel and Juniper would have a future too.
The fruit was sweet and salty at once, more flavorful than what Nate was used to eating. He didn’t like it, but forced it down—not wanting to appear ungrateful. He strained to listen as Alden wrote in the book, his elegant writing taking up more space than Ivy’s tight lines.
“It’s the same thing,” Alden was saying. He drew a symbol. “I know the man who cooks this. It’ll always have this stamp. There’sa . ..” He wheezed, closing his eyes. When he blinked them open again, his gaze wavered around the room as if he’d forgotten where they were.
“That’s the chem for pain kicking in,” James whispered to Nate.
“Chem.” Nate’s hands went cold. “But—”
“He’s in more pain than you can comprehend. I gave him something to ease it.” James’s voice was very soft, but the force of his words silenced Nate. “This is a mercy, not a vice.”
Nate wondered how long Alden had been in pain. If chem had been a mercy all along.
Alden glanced up from the book. “My grandmother, Fran. She’s sleeping in the next room over.”
Nate choked on the last of the dried fruit. He’d seen Alden on every flavor of chem, from gasolex fumes to Agatha’s wicked pills. But he’d never been like this—scattered and soft, in a childlike daze.
“She bartered for an old GEMs manual.” A smile creased the tired lines around Alden’s mouth. “Said she traded a kiss for it. Didn’t help a bit, but. . .This part always stuck out to me. What if. . .?” He squinted and wrote again, his bruised lip caught between his teeth.
“Yes!” Ivy kissed his hair, and he gave her an owlish look. “You know where we can find it?”
“By the south port,” Alden said. He drew in the margin, tracing a portion of the sludge-coast. “Don’t know where he gets it, but he always has it.”
“Of course. I was overthinking it.” Ivy shook her head. “And all the while, everything I needed was being squirreled into the Withers to make chem.”
“Ah, well. We’re a resourceful lot.” The pen dropped from Alden’s hand. He frowned at it until Ivy helped him grasp it again.
“You have Natey’s eyes.” He squinted until he found Nate. “Did she make you?”
Nate nodded, unsure why he’d hesitated to tell Alden that he’d found his mother—that they didn’t share being orphaned. Guilt gnawed on his bones.
The pen rolled away again, and this time Ivy didn’t bother slipping it between Alden’s clumsy fingers. She patted his hand instead. “That’s enough for tonight. I think we’ve got it. All we need is a Diffuser. I can build a still easily with a good Tinkerer on hand.”
“My Diffuser is in the safe,” Alden said. “Nate says he doesn’t know how to get in it, but he does. He always knows. He’s. . .” He twisted and pushed at the cushions weakly, agitated. “I’m tired. I don’t—I don’t want to sit up.”
A pang of quiet horror twisted Nate up inside. Even in his worst chem-fueled rambling, Alden had never been this confused. At least he’d forgotten that the Diffuser had been stolen—and how.
James’s hand was warm at Nate’s shoulder—the only thing that wasn’t icy. Even the air was thick, as if the depths of winter had blasted into the dusty room. “You’ll have time to grieve later,” he said. “Go be with him now.”
“We’ll wait in the hallway. Call out if you need us,” Ivy said, leading James away.
Nate shuddered, took a deep breath, and pushed himself out of the chair.
I don’t know how to do this.
He pressed his fingers to his eyes until the tears stopped coming. Wiping his face, he took a quick, steadying breath.
Early morning sunlight from the window lit Alden’s skin. He gleamed like a statue carved of polished bone.
“Is Grandmother all right?” Alden whispered.
Nate sat at his hip and tucked a stray hair behind his ear. “Yes,” he said, lying easily—happy to pretend she was fine and not gone, her body ash. “I fixed your hair, by the way.”
“A young man of many skills.” Alden took a slow breath, like he was building himself up to say something ridiculous. He was boyish in that moment, trying to hide a smile. Then he exhaled a tired sound and reached to carefully trace one of Nate’s bandaged wrists. “Thank you.”
“The tangles didn’t suit you.” Nate laughed like a creaking hinge.
Alden gave a soft hum of acknowledgment and closed his eyes. His fingertips fluttered against Nate’s arm at the edge of the bandage. Nate studied the deep circles under his eyes and the blueish pale tinge of his fingertips and lips.
