more leads.”
“Great,” I say.
I start to leave, but she steps forward and hugs me.
“Thanks for checking this one out,” she says quietly. “We’re going to find him.”
I hope she doesn’t notice that I tense in her arms, or that I can’t look her in the eyes when she lets me go.
“Be careful,” she says.
“I’ll see you in a bit,” I call over my shoulder.
In the car, I toss a bag that contains my souped-up laptop and a few of Raylan’s weapons onto the passenger seat. Zophie waves to me from the porch, and then I’m on the road.
The drive is scenic. Peaceful, even. The leaves are turning brilliant shades of orange and red. I would enjoy it if I could just get Janus and Zophie out of my mind. Every time I think of her waiting at home, still believing that her brother is out there, I feel sick to my stomach. I start to wonder if I’ve made a bad decision—that knowing that something terrible has happened to Janus is better than not knowing where he is or ifhe’s even alive. Eventually she’ll have to find out, or it might drive her mad.
When I get back, I’ll tell her. Maybe not the exact truth, but I will tell her that Janus is gone. I just have to figure out how.
An hour or so after I cross the Canadian border, I pick up my phone to check in with Zophie, but it has no signal. It’s only then that I realize the burner is only set to work off US cell towers. I glance at my map—I’m only half an hour from Montreal. I decide to soldier on.
At a gas station outside of the city, I buy a calling card and sidle up to a pay phone. I call the cabin’s landline, but in response I get a fast, repetitive beeping—the kind of noise I’ve only heard once before while chasing a potential lead on Janus, when I called a number that was disconnected. I try again and get the same sound.
When Zophie doesn’t pick up the other burner, I start to panic. I try two more times but get no answer. I tell myself she’s just gone to the store, or she’s accidentally left the phone off the hook—any number of excuses that could result in her not answering.
I call my burner’s number so I can check my voice mail remotely. There’s one message. Of course it’s from her, left an hour ago.
“Lexa!” she shouts. “Lexa, you have to come back now! As soon as you get this.” She’s so excited. “I stumbled onto this Listserv of people calling themselves‘Greeters’ who say they were recruited by an Elder. I posted on it anonymously, and someone’s already contacted me. I know you said to be careful about this stuff, but I just couldn’t wait. And besides, I made him prove he was one of us. He knows about Loridas and the Garde. He was on the other ship. He’s one of the Cêpan.”
My heart jumps into my throat.
“I asked the person what the pilot’s name was. He said Janus. He knew all about my brother.”
There’s a pause in the message. I can hear Zophie sniffling, fighting back tears.
“Lexa,” she says. “He says Janus is with them. My brother is on his way here. Everything’s going to be okay.”
My heart collapses, and before I realize it, I’m back in the car with my laptop open in front of me, connected to a satellite uplink. It’s not too late. I can still contact her. If she’s on her computer, I can send her a message. . . .
I pull up the live surveillance feed of the cabin on my laptop and choke. There are dozens of Mogs on our lawn. They wrestle with the Chimærae, who claw at the intruders. But the animals are being overpowered—there are hideous, gnashing beasts alongside the Mogadorians, and they tear into the Chimærae with terrifying ferocity. A few of our animals are alreadybeing bagged and loaded into a truck. Some fall and don’t get back up.
And in the middle of it all is Zophie. I scream at her, dozens of things that she can’t hear. I tell her to run. I tell her to fight. I apologize. She struggles valiantly alongside the Chimærae, tearing out of the grip
“Great,” I say.
I start to leave, but she steps forward and hugs me.
“Thanks for checking this one out,” she says quietly. “We’re going to find him.”
I hope she doesn’t notice that I tense in her arms, or that I can’t look her in the eyes when she lets me go.
“Be careful,” she says.
“I’ll see you in a bit,” I call over my shoulder.
In the car, I toss a bag that contains my souped-up laptop and a few of Raylan’s weapons onto the passenger seat. Zophie waves to me from the porch, and then I’m on the road.
The drive is scenic. Peaceful, even. The leaves are turning brilliant shades of orange and red. I would enjoy it if I could just get Janus and Zophie out of my mind. Every time I think of her waiting at home, still believing that her brother is out there, I feel sick to my stomach. I start to wonder if I’ve made a bad decision—that knowing that something terrible has happened to Janus is better than not knowing where he is or ifhe’s even alive. Eventually she’ll have to find out, or it might drive her mad.
When I get back, I’ll tell her. Maybe not the exact truth, but I will tell her that Janus is gone. I just have to figure out how.
An hour or so after I cross the Canadian border, I pick up my phone to check in with Zophie, but it has no signal. It’s only then that I realize the burner is only set to work off US cell towers. I glance at my map—I’m only half an hour from Montreal. I decide to soldier on.
At a gas station outside of the city, I buy a calling card and sidle up to a pay phone. I call the cabin’s landline, but in response I get a fast, repetitive beeping—the kind of noise I’ve only heard once before while chasing a potential lead on Janus, when I called a number that was disconnected. I try again and get the same sound.
When Zophie doesn’t pick up the other burner, I start to panic. I try two more times but get no answer. I tell myself she’s just gone to the store, or she’s accidentally left the phone off the hook—any number of excuses that could result in her not answering.
I call my burner’s number so I can check my voice mail remotely. There’s one message. Of course it’s from her, left an hour ago.
“Lexa!” she shouts. “Lexa, you have to come back now! As soon as you get this.” She’s so excited. “I stumbled onto this Listserv of people calling themselves‘Greeters’ who say they were recruited by an Elder. I posted on it anonymously, and someone’s already contacted me. I know you said to be careful about this stuff, but I just couldn’t wait. And besides, I made him prove he was one of us. He knows about Loridas and the Garde. He was on the other ship. He’s one of the Cêpan.”
My heart jumps into my throat.
“I asked the person what the pilot’s name was. He said Janus. He knew all about my brother.”
There’s a pause in the message. I can hear Zophie sniffling, fighting back tears.
“Lexa,” she says. “He says Janus is with them. My brother is on his way here. Everything’s going to be okay.”
My heart collapses, and before I realize it, I’m back in the car with my laptop open in front of me, connected to a satellite uplink. It’s not too late. I can still contact her. If she’s on her computer, I can send her a message. . . .
I pull up the live surveillance feed of the cabin on my laptop and choke. There are dozens of Mogs on our lawn. They wrestle with the Chimærae, who claw at the intruders. But the animals are being overpowered—there are hideous, gnashing beasts alongside the Mogadorians, and they tear into the Chimærae with terrifying ferocity. A few of our animals are alreadybeing bagged and loaded into a truck. Some fall and don’t get back up.
And in the middle of it all is Zophie. I scream at her, dozens of things that she can’t hear. I tell her to run. I tell her to fight. I apologize. She struggles valiantly alongside the Chimærae, tearing out of the grip
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