“The Night City wishes to be free of the Turnbulls. To no longer serve their ends, even in return for their sacrifices. It wishes to find a way to break the Turnbulls’ bargain. Promise now to assist with this goal, and you will be given the power to walk in both the mortal world and the Night City. Do you accept the bargain?”
“Er—any more terms?” Emma said. It seemed suspiciously simple.
“A trifling matter,” he replied. “You must spend exactly half of your time in one world, and half in the other. From year’s dawn to year’s end. Should you favor one more than the other, even by a day, you will be made permanently a member of it.”
There it was. Emma looked at Nat, and at Saskia. It was a small enough price to pay to have both.
“I accept,” she said. And it echoed through her, sure in every last bone and breath and muscle. The right choice. The only choice, for her. She did not belong in one world or the other. She was made for both.
“Very good,” the Judge replied crisply. “Be ready to receive word of your presentation to the High Court.”
“My presentation?”
The Judge popped out of existence.
“He likes to do that,” said Robin, at her elbow. “Stay well, lady fox.”
With a last wink, he was gone.
Then Emma felt a rush of air on her neck. Heard a clatter. There, on the floor, was her silver collar. It had fallen away. And with it, her servitude to the Night City. More collars struck the ground. She saw her sisters touch newly bare necks, eyes soft with wonder.
A siren pierced the air. Somewhere outside the Greater Reading Room, gravel crunched. The vaulted room filled with flashing blue lights.
The fox maidens gathered her in a bone-crushing, icy hug.They feel so cold,Emma thought,have they always been this cold? I must be going into shock.
Nancy held her tightest of all. “Oh, love, thank you. There’s no time—the mortals are coming—but we’ll find you, don’t you worry.”
She released Emma. One by one, the fox maidens melted away. Dark shadows with pointed ears and brush tails scattered across the reading room floor. Only Saskia remained.
She gripped Emma’s shoulders, eyes burning with cold fire. Then a pair of chilly lips brushed Emma’s, like a touch of honey and ice. Absolute shock held Emma still. But within, her heart was thundering: a dark symphony that fogged her mind and blurred panic with joy. Too late, she reached out. Her hands closed on darkness. Saskia was gone.
“You’ve done well, girl,” the Sister whispered gruffly, pulling Emma into a hug of her own. “And I’ll see you soon. You won’t be alone, that I promise. Henry? Oh, have your moment, but be quick about it. They can’t find us here, those mortal police.”
There was a new stillness about the Librarian. The wheezing was gone, Emma realized. “You look different,” she said. He did, now she was this close. Younger, and taller, as though the weight had rolled off his spine.
“So do you, child. You look… mortal.” He traced Emma’s face with a gentle finger, then shuffled into the shadowed labyrinth of the stacks. The darkness closed behind him.
The reading room doors burst open, and a squad of blue vests charged in. Emma was left staring at Nat, Venetia, and Jasper.
“What are we doing here?” Jasper blinked. “Why are there police? Oh, hullo, Emma. Have you been away? Feels like I haven’t seen you in ages.”
Venetia flicked her blood-streaked hair over one shoulder. “I am, as ever,” she said, “surrounded by idiots.”
CHAPTER 42
Emma adjusted the angle of the photo frame. Satisfied, she dropped onto her bed. The college had offered her a bigger room. But this one, an attic overlooking the Gabriel College bell tower on one side and the Meadows on the other, had won her heart on sight. It was full of nooks and odd angles. And best of all, its battered door opened onto a living room, opposite a matching door that led to Nat’s bedroom. It had been the last set of connecting rooms available at such short notice, the bursar had said.
“But of course,” he had stammered, “exceptional circumstances, we all know your, ahem—situation.”
She was still getting used to being front-page news. The stares and whispers were unsettling. But there had been one major benefit to being a nationally famous kidnap victim. Whatever she asked for, the University seemed happy to provide. Very happy. Almost anxious to please.
This, of course, had nothing to do with any statements the chancellor had issued during her supposed eighteen-month hostageordeal. It did not denote anyembarrassmenton the part of the establishment.
In fact, the University’s press officers had become decidedly vague in the face of inquiries as to why the chancellor had arranged press calls for Richard and his friends on University property. Or the possibility that he had described the country’s newest criminal celebrity as an “exemplary young man,” undeserving of “the cruel disruption” to his studies from “baseless, discriminatory rumors.” Meanwhile, with much muttering and chain-smoking, the press office were spending their weekends scrubbing every photo of the chancellor with his arm around Richard from the internet.
Emma sat up as Nat appeared in the doorway.
“Hee—hiiii—phhh—” He clung to the doorframe, panting. “Six flights of stairs, Emma,” he mourned. “Six. It isn’t right.”
