“It’s a long story,” we both say at the same time, but since today is shaping up to be the day for those, between us, we do tell it, taking it in turns to fill in the gaps until all six of us are fully looped into the fold—albeit reluctantly and with no love lost between Hues and Shades.
“So, you didn’t find anything useful in the books?” Saleen asks once we’re done with the telling. “Nothing about voids?”
“Not even a mention.” Cemmy sighs. “And we used over a dozen charms to ask every question we could think of, so either we’re doing it wrong, or the future sent us here for a different reason.”
This reunion, would be my guess. It couldn’t have Ezzo and me separated for long.
“I still don’t understand why it would wantusto do this.” Chase paces his agitation across the room. “As far as the trackers are concerned, we’re as much of a threat to the Gray as the Divine Meridian. Anything we do would be tainted by that mindset.”
“If this is really about the Meridian, then I think it’s more of a need than a want.” Cemmy’s reply is reluctant, as though it physically pains her to say the words. “You believe that he’s somehow connected to the deaths you saw in your vision, yes?” She aims that ask at me.
“Yes.”
“And the trackers haven’t been able to infiltrate his church because it’s warded?”
Also yes. “The entire block around it is impenetrable to Shades.”
“Then there’s your answer. We can—”
“Beat the wards,” Chase finishes for her, scrubbing a hand hard through his hair.
“Exactly. This isn’t something their kind can do on their own.”
Right, of course. The future’s meddling suddenly makes sense. It’s impossible to ward against Hues—there’s not enough magic in their blood to trigger the spell—so they can go where we can’t.
“Then help us.” I try to catch Ezzo’s eye, since in this, he seems to be my staunchest ally, the Hue that convinced the rest of the palette to continue the search. “If there’s a reason for what he’s doing, there must be a record of it somewhere. In some kind of office, maybe, or in whatever private sanctum he keeps in that church. Help us find it.”
“Why? So your attack dog can turn us in when we’re done?” His bite is every bit as harsh as I deserve. The last time I talked him into helping, it ended with Akari tightening an Orange noose around his throat, swiftly followed by me not making a particularly noble case for his freedom. Any goodwill we’d been building is gone now.
“No, so that the future will stop pushing us together,” I say, as that would put an end to both my guilt and this bizarre attachment I’ve inexplicably formed. “It’s got us doing all the same work, anyway, so wouldn’t it be easier to just . . . find the answer so we can be rid of each other already?”
“Willsheagree to that?” Ezzo cocks his head at Akari, the accusation in his eyes burning cold.
“Yes, she will,” Saleen says, looking to Akari to confirm. “No one’s turning anyone in, right?”
“Gods, yes, right,” Akari mutters, though it’s clear she’s only doing it for Saleen, to prove that she’d never betray the Red’s trust. But no matter the reason, the six of us are finally aligned on a course, so without any further bickering, we blink back into the physical realm and get to work.
CHAPTER 22
EZZO
“How do we keep ending up in this position?” The Meridian’s church looms large before us, a plain construction of magnolia brick and terracotta tile—so different to Isitar’s holy houses in its appearance, yet equally effective in its capacity to incite hate.
“Hey, you’re the one who decided to save the Shade.” Cemmy looks about as happy as I feel, though it’s Chase who boasts the deepest resentment of religion, which is entirely understandable given how it was the clergy who triggered his sister’s power and threw her in an iron cage.
“Really starting to wonder if that was my decision,” I grumble, less to her than to myself. The future has always been a nebulous concept—even my mother struggled to fully articulate the erratic whims of fate. How they’re driven by us every bit as much as we’re driven by them. How our choices all exist in the liminal space between destiny and free will.
“But I am sorry for dragging you both into this,” I say, since now that we’re stood on the cusp of even more danger, it feels important for them to know that I only ever meant to endanger my life, not theirs, that no matter how much anger I’m still harboring, I’d never willingly put another Hue in harm’s way.
“Don’t be sorry, Ez, just be more careful, okay?” Cemmy’s shrug is both an acknowledgement of my apology and an attempt to hide how much it meant—though I’ve known her long enough to read the softening in her expression. “Now, come on, we haveto go save these idiot zealots from themselves. Again.” She turns her attention back to the task at hand. Since we still don’t know exactlywhatthe Divine Meridian is, we can’t risk a confrontation, so we’ll be making our approach in the physical realm, not the Gray, and waiting until he’s deep in his sermon. Usually, that would mean an early morning, but unlike the Church’s clerics, the Meridian prefers to regale his followers in the evening, so we spent the day at Saleen’s, searching her parents’ library for anything the future might have missed—or withheld—and snatching some scattered sleep, avoiding the three Shades we’ve found ourselves in bed with.
Or rather, I spent it avoiding Raya. Because I could tell, while she was recounting her part of the story, that she was treading around some fractured piece—but when I asked her about it a little later, she looked me straight in the eye and said that I was imagining things, that she owed me a thank you for saving Akari, and that was it, she’d already told me everything else.
Except for why she was lying.
There was no mistaking the edge to her voice and the guilty flush to her cheeks, the way her eyes wouldn’t meet mine for more than a second, like she was afraid to look at me for some reason. Like in a house filled with full-bloods, I was the biggest threat.
We steal into the church among the masses, dressed in the same palette of heavy blacks they favor, our irises glamoured to match the pigment shimmering in theirs. Silver flecks in place of the gold that marks those who haven’t broken with the sacraments, another brazen perversion the Meridian uses to mock those of traditional faith. The very fact that he was able to commandeer a church of this size is a true mark of the power he holds in Sarotuza, a feat I wouldn’t have thought possible—but according to Saleen, his ascendency is the product of a calculated effort that preyed perfectly on the typics’ wants and fears.
