“What?” Raya pulled herself free. “He just said my name.”
“Help me, Hiraya.”
Raya ran toward Abbie’s web.
“Raya, stop!” Q pulled her back. “That’s not your brother.”
“It is.” Raya struggled against Q. “It’s Jace.”
Q gripped Raya’s arms. “Jace is dead.”
“Save me, Hiraya.”
“Can’t you hear him?” Raya’s hand trembled around the miniature train. “Can’t you see him?”
“I do see it.I see the stowaway.”
“No.” She shook her head. “It’s Jace.”
“Hiraya, please. I don’t want to die. Not again.”
Tears flooded Raya’s eyes. “I need to save him, Q.”
Q
Their tether grew slack. Though Raya stood no more than a few feet from him, Q balanced at the edge of the chasm the stowaway had ripped between them. As much as he wanted to believe what Raya’s eyes told her, he trusted the eyes he had trained to see the truth more. A part of him wished that he were blind. He had spent half of his life bound to a cold anger and only a sliver of it tethered to Raya’s warmth. But that fraction was enough for every cell in his body to scream for it as it slipped away.
“Raya, listen to me. That isn’t Jace. It’s the stowaway. It doesn’t have a face.”
“I don’t understand.” Raya broke into sobs. “Why can’t you see him?”
“Because it’s a trick,” Q yelled over the storm. “The stowaway is trying to save itself.”
Rotting tendrils burst from the stowaway’s body. Abbie bound them to the stowaway, containing the rot.
“Raya, this is the engine.” Q gripped her arms. “If we lose it, we lose the train.”
Raya lowered her eyes and nodded.
Though their tether remained slack, Q felt Raya’s heart quicken through it, pounding with the same determination he had trusted to lead him in the ballroom. He let go of her, choosing to trust her again.
Abbie scuttled to the wall and cut the web free. The stowaway dropped to the floor, Abbie’s web falling over it like a net.
“The train, Raya. Now.”
Raya set the crystal train on a silver track, her tears lost in the rain streaming down her face. The stowaway wailed. Raya looked away.
The train’s tiny door slid open. Q wrestled the stowaway through it, silver threads clinging to his clothes and skin. Abbie cut him free. The train’s doors slid shut, trapping the stowaway behind them.
“We did it.” Q exhaled. It was over. They were safe. Q imagined what his first painted sunrise on the Elsewhere Express would look like. Or maybe he would skip it and sleep in. He had infinite mornings to wake up ahead of the sun and watch ripening shades of warm red and orange blend into violet and cobalt blue.
Raya yanked the train from the railway and set it on another track.
Q gasped. “Raya, stop! Don’t do this. You’re making a mistake.”
“No, Q.” Raya let the train go. “I’m fixing one.”
“Are the train’s spiders dangerous?”
