A quiet, heavy calm took over Nate.
Please burn me up.
It was Alden’s last wish.
Confronted with the platform and Alden’s body and the fire-streaked sunset, Nate lost sight of everyone else. He felt like the ticking insides of a clock as he took one small step after another, until Alden was right there and the smell of gasolex stung at his nostrils.
The flames rose in a flash, hot the way the train wreck had been. He cringed back, crying out with shock before recovering with a low swear under his breath. Somewhere, Alden was probably watching him botch a funeral by scorching his own eyelashes off.
Reed backed away, taking the torch and leaving Nate with the heat.
Alden had tried to save him all along. He hadn’t failed. He’d unknowingly led him to his mother, and he’d led Pixel to a safe place. A real home.
Did he know?
“What should I say?” Nate asked over the crackling sounds of the flames. He didn’t watch. He couldn’t.
“Walk well!” Reed called out.
Nate began to laugh, but the sound became something else and his eyes went hot. “Alden hated walking.”
“I only enjoy one form of exertion, butterfly,” Alden had said with a wink.
Shaking his head, Nate lifted his face and watched embers and smoke curl toward the sky. A quick, certain smile tugged at his dry lips. As long as he lived, there’d be something left of Alden.
He didn’t say a thing.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Up on the roof of Ivy House, Nate groped his way along a twisted wire for the gap causing the alarm system to fail. Three weeks had gone by, and the electricity was still off, but a wind-crank on the roof generated enough power to test the system. As he worked, standing on a stack of cinder blocks to reach the ceiling of the rooftop shed, he listened to the quiet hum of Ivy having a picnic with the girls near the fire escape.
They were celebrating the gates opening, for better or for worse. Not that it really mattered to anyone at Ivy House. Not yet. Word had quickly spread that Gathos City was requiring applications to pass through the gates, and no one without proof of workhouse attendance would be permitted to visit the city.
It was another insult. But hope weaved its way through anger. Papers could be forged. Regulations would change.
Everything would change.
Nate wasn’t sure he wanted it to.
Pixel’s small voice carried like a song. “What will you do?”
“Stay here,” Brick said. “What use are those towers if you don’t have credits to buy anything? Or anywhere to live?”
“I’ll stay with you,” Pixel said firmly.
“Will they come after us with the gates open?” Juniper asked. She’d developed a habit of following Ivy everywhere. Needing a break from her questions and quiet, constant chatter, Ivy had given her the “very important” task of sitting with the sick and keeping them company. She’d taken to it immediately, so natural and calm with the old ones that James was already sitting with her every evening to teach her the vows of Servants of the Old Gods.
“You’ll be difficult to find if they do. But I wouldn’t worry about that,” Ivy said. “They have no reason to think you’re still alive.”
“Good.” Juniper made a small, snarling sound. “I’m not going back. Ever.”
“I’ll go into the city for work when they sort the mess at the gates out,” Sparks said with an undercurrent of apology. “Find a tailor to apprentice under and make fine clothes.”
Nate found the end of the wire. Every day, a little more feeling came back in his hands. He pinched the narrow red strand, finding the place where rats had gnawed clean through. The thought of going back to Gathos City repulsed him, but a knife edge of curiosity worked its way to the surface of his thoughts. He’d destroyed Agatha’s still. Maybe, some day, he’d go back to where he was made and destroy the labs too.
“The clothes are beautiful, Sparks,” Ivy gushed, as if able to utterly forget what the city had done to the Withers, to Nate. “You’ll love them. I was never one for finery. But I have a sweet tooth, and I miss the food more than anything.”
Ivy launched into a description of Gathos City sweets that would have given Nate hunger pangs any other day. But he couldn’t bear the thought of eating. For the first few days, the medicine James had given him for pain had stolen his appetite away. But now that his hands were healing and he didn’t need it, his stomach was still like the rest of him—raw and cold.
