Consul narrows her eyes. “I don’t believe you.”
“I don’t care,” I retort. “Now, you want to tell me why you’re hiding Hannah Vale’s kids here instead of an official ISD black site? I’ve visited a few of those—they’re a hell of a lot more secure than this place.”
Consul tilts her head and gives me a calculating look. Deciding whether or not to trust me. Finally, she does.
“Because there is a mole,” she says quietly. “In the division.”
“Oh,” I say, surprised. “So you thought they’d be safer here.”
Eames shifts on his feet, his expression torn between defiance and apology. “Hannah Vale—our mom. She’s an expert hacker. She used to be white hat… but…”
“Something went wrong,” I say.
He nods.
“So let me guess,” I say. “Your mom stared into the void, and the void stared back and said, ‘Hey, you should use your powers for money and chaos,’ so she went after state and national infrastructure, intending to sell those hacks to the highest bidder. And that’s when you decided to run to ISD?”
He nods. “We had to truly disappear. Become different people. If that meant they had to stop my heart for a minute, then fine. I’d do it. My sister was never inked because my mom preferred to keep it that way until we were older. So her identity was easier to change—a haircut, a new birth certificate, a paper trail, and all the usual stuff that no one bothers with anymore.” He takes a deep breath. “I traded information about her group to ISD in exchange for the new identities. After she goes to prison, we’ll be free.”
So he isn’t a true wraith.
He is running from his past while I’m running toward mine.
“I betrayed my mom,” says Eames heavily, “so my sister could have a chance at a real life.”
“Project Persephone,” I say.
He nods. “William and Persephone Vale,” he says quietly, as though admitting a truth he has long buried.
I look at Piper. She’s so young—she looks like a fawn with her large eyes and thin limbs. But then again, she’s not that much younger than I was when I became a wraith.
“Is that what you want to be called?” Nonna asks gently. She stands in the doorway of the kitchen, listening quietly.
Piper bites her lip. It’s Eames who answers. “No,” he says, putting a hand on his sister’s shoulder. “We’re Eames and Piper Ahlberg. Because it’s who we have to be, to be safe.”
Piper is the most valuable person in this building. If Hannah Vale manages to find her, she can purge the apartment complex of every witness without fear of killing her daughter. That would be the pragmatic—and vicious—thing to do. I remember her fingers flying across the keyboard, downloading remote access of the building onto her ringware. That ring now controls the entirety of the building. If she finds Piper, she can implement her escape plan and vanish. Then she’ll undoubtedly sell those infrastructure hacks to whoever can pay her the most.
I imagine what those hacks could do in the wrong hands: entire power grids going down during a heat wave, water systems crashing when they’re needed during a fire, communications and internet unresponsive during a hurricane or tornado.
This isn’t just about saving a building full of people.
It’s about saving so many more.
I grit my teeth.
“Okay,” I say a third time. “We should—”
“Augusta.” Edgar’s voice flows into my ear, unheard to all but me.
I hold up a hand, gesturing for silence. “Edgar?” I ask. “What is it?”
There is a heartbeat of quiet, a moment in which the world is suspended.
Then Edgar says, “They’re here.”
21
They’re here.
