I glance over at Atlas, who’s leaning on a nearby wall, watching me with an expression that’s half curious, half cautious. Whatever he sees in my face pulls a dark chuckle out of him.
“Wild to think there are all kinds of paths out there we were never allowed to know about, huh?”
“All right,” Garian cuts in. “You’ve had a long journey. That little one”—he nods at Kelda, who doesn’t even bark an objection at the nickname—“is obviously exhausted. There are bedrooms upstairs where you can rest.”
Halle and Kelda move immediately for the stairs, and I follow them, making sure they both get settled in bed underneath a worn yellow quilt. Exhaustion pulls at the corners of my eyes, and I want so badly to sink with it. Every inch of my body feels weak, heavy, fractured beyond repair.
But I don’t sleep. I can’t. There’s no telling what could happen to my sisters if I relax and close my eyes. So I sit in a chair in the corner of the bedroom, pull my knees into my chest, and keep watch over them.
I listen to their steady, rhythmic breaths.
I mentally tally up the cash and water rations I have left in my kit, calculating how far we can get before I need more. Trying to plot out the best way for us to reach Vicar and how much time we have left on our head start.
The only other saint I know of who tried to run was Sorcha Tannith, the girl with the bright-red hair who was discovered when I was five or six years old. Mama told me her storm-touched ability had manifested as an aptitude for manipulating metal—versus my phasing or Gabriel’s ergokinesis—and when her parents found out, she’d run away.
She managed to make it four days before the Archangels found her. We’ve already burned up most of one. We need to move, and soon.
It’s a few hours past noon, heat waves rippling across Concord, making it look like the little town is underwater. The sun is gettingmore and more orange as it drops lower into the sky when there’s a soft rap at the bedroom door, and I move quickly to open it before they can knock louder and wake my sisters.
It’s Atlas, standing in the hallway with one hand in his pocket and the other one holding a little stoppered elixir vial.
I ease through the door and shut it behind me with the barest click. “What do you need?”
“Just coming to check on you. And on them.” He nods at the bedroom beyond and then clears his throat. Like he’s uncomfortable. Or maybe just reluctant to have this conversation. He holds the elixir out to me. “Liren made this for you. They said it’ll help you and your sisters sleep if you need it.” When I don’t move to take it, he pushes it a little closer. “Look, no offense, but itdoeslook like you need it, so…”
I shake my head, pushing his hand away. “No thanks. I don’t need any sleep right now.”
Atlas frowns. “I find that very hard to believe. I don’t think you’ve rested more than an hour or two in… days.”
He’s right, I haven’t, but I don’t know why him pointing that out helps at all. It just rankles against my skin. “What do you care, anyway? You are very much on board with me disappearing from your lives forever, if I recall.”
Atlas sighs, slipping the vial into his free pocket. “I don’t condone what you do, Valene, or the impact you have on my brother. That’s not the same thing as not caring about you as a person.”
“Sorry if I’m not very good at telling the difference.” I reach for the door handle, turning it with a quiet click. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”
I don’t wait for his response or even look up at him as I slinkback into the bedroom and close the door in his face. When I turn back to the bed, I spot Kelda, curled up tight under the quilt… but no Halle.
My chest seizes with panic, and for one long, desperate moment, my mind spirals in a flurry of worries and fears—where is she, who took her, how could this happen, how could I fail them again—until I notice that the window on the far side of the room is open and there’s the shadow of someone outside, sitting on the roof of the back porch.
I tiptoe over and phase through the window gap, partly so I don’t risk waking Kelda and partly because there is no sense hiding it anymore; it’s out there, and there’s some small sense of relief in that. Halle sits, curled into a ball, soaking in the dry, heavy warmth of the afternoon and staring up at the deep-turquoise sky. She looks tired still, pallid underneath the light olive-tan of her skin, soft shadows under her eyes and in the hollows of her cheeks.
“What are you doing out here?” I ask as I sit beside her. “You nearly gave me a heart attack.”
“I didn’t want to wake up Kelda.” Halle’s eyes trace the wispy white clouds floating far above our heads. “I was just thinking about Mama and how she used to tell us we didn’t need to worry because she was so tough she could punch lightning. I always thought it was just a wild overexaggeration. Like a tall tale or something. But I guess it actually wasn’t, was it.”
“No,” I say, even though it’s not really a question. She already knows. “No, it was kind of true.”
A tense silence settles between us, making the hot air feel even thicker, despite the blustery wind that whips through Concordfrom the Copper Plains. I study the little town’s rooftops and quiet roads, not really sure what to say next, but in the end, I don’t have to. Halle breaks the silence first.
“You know what bothers me the most? All these other people knew. Orion… That girl Dani… They knew what you were and what you could do, and me and Kel?” She finally looks at me then, anger and unshed tears glimmering in her eyes. “We were just totally in the dark. Even after Papa died and Mama went prophet and you were all we had left.”
“I know. I’m—”
“Sorry, yeah.” She swipes the tears dry, turning away again. “I know. I get it.”
I’m not ready for this conversation. I thought—I’dhoped—I’d never have to have it, but it’s here anyway. And it’s Halle. I owe hersomething, even if I’m not sure that it’ll fix anything.
“The Butcher was… this whole other person for me. Like a face I got to take on and off. It made it easier to handle what I did because I could keep it separate. Val didn’t do those things; the Butcher did. Val wasn’t a killer or a murderer; the Butcher was.” I take a deep, shaky breath and swallow hard, fighting the urge to curl my hands into fists, to pull all my limbs in tight, to protect myself. Too many years spent propping up walls inside. “I thought if I could keep Val’s life and the Butcher’s life completely separate, you and Kel would be protected. Saved from ever having to know about it. But I was wrong.”
