As I crossed the now-empty club floor, I heard the metal click of a lighter from the corner of the room. Max was there, leaning against the wall.
Waiting for me.
I walked over to him. “What?” I said.
He clicked his lighter open, and a flame appeared. “Leave him be.”
My shoulders sank. “I need his help. I’m not trying to hurt him.”
“You hurt him by existing.” He snapped the lighter shut. “He’s not himself anymore. He suddenly has this weird … empathy for humans.” He shuddered.
“If you’re so worried about him being near me, why’d the band come to Park City?”
Max pushed away from the wall and came toward me. “Have you ever tried to tell him what to do?” He shook his head as if he already knew the answer, then he walked right past me and out the exit.
I looked at the ceiling and sighed. First Cole threw me out, then Max—who I would’ve thought wanted me to be the next queen just as much as Cole did—was warning me to stay away.
The world was officially backward.
I walked out of the club, still reeling from Cole’s rejection. I don’t know why I expected a different reaction from him. In his eyes, I had ruined his chance to rule the Everneath.
I was the accidental almost-queen who had denied him everything he had ever wanted. And now I was asking for his help to save the boy I loved.
The night air had a bite to it. In the mountains, even the hottest nights always had a chill. I walked down the dark street to where I’d left my car. A black sedan was parked behind me. I wouldn’t have noticed it except that I could see a tiny red glow coming from the driver’s seat. It looked like the lit end of a cigarette.
Fumbling with the keys, I got into my car as fast as I could and locked the door.
When I pulled out, the sedan pulled out too, keeping its lights off. Was it following me? Detective Jackson had smelled like smoke. Did he drive a town car?
Or was I just being paranoid? I shook my head. It probably wasn’t him. And even if it was, I wasn’t doing anything wrong.
I thought about calling my dad to complain, but I didn’t want to worry him; and as far as I knew, it wasn’t against the law to follow someone. Besides, complaining or trying to lose him might make me look even guiltier. If Detective Jackson was following me in the hope that I’d lead him to Jack, he was taking the wrong road.
I couldn’t lead him to Jack even if I wanted to.
Before I went to bed, I glanced at the mythology book I’d thrown down yesterday. It had fallen to the floor open-faced. A black-and-white drawing of a Minotaur took up the entire page on the right.
The myth of the Minotaur and the labyrinth. I picked up the book and read from the passage.
It was a story of war.
It told the account of Minos, king of Crete, who kept a Minotaur at the heart of an impenetrable labyrinth. Every nine years, Minos forced their enemies, the Athenians, to send fourteen young men and women, in a black-sailed ship, as food for the beast.
Theseus, a prince in Athens, volunteered to be fed to the Minotaur. But he really planned to slay the monster.
King Minos’s daughter, Ariadne, fell in love with Theseus. She vowed to help him by giving him a ball of twine so he wouldn’t get lost in the maze.
Theseus succeeded in killing the Minotaur and used the twine to find his way out of the labyrinth.
A simple ball of twine had saved his life. I could do what Ariadne did. If I could just hold Jack’s hand again … and give him a ball of twine, he could use it to lead himself out.
If I could just hold his hand in mine again, I would pull him out.
I turned back to the story of the Minotaur. The celebration of slaying the monster was short-lived. Theseus abandoned Ariadne. And his own father—believing his son was dead—committed suicide.
Damn myths.
TEN
NOW
The Surface. My bedroom.
Tonight, in my dream, I wait alone on my side of the bed for a long time. There is an empty space next to me where Jack usually is. I don’t move. I don’t want to rustle the atmosphere and create any disturbance that would prevent him from coming to me.
I don’t know how much time passes or how long I am alone. Finally, Jack appears by my side. His eyes are open only to slits.
“Becks,” he whispers. “Are you there?”
“Shhh,” I say, holding the air that is his hand. “I’m here. Don’t waste your energy.”
He struggles to raise his eyelids, and I am reminded of those dreams I have when I am so exhausted that I can’t keep my eyes open, even in my dream.
The effort tires him, and he shuts his eyes. “I can’t see. Tell me you’re here.”
“I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”
“I think if I could just touch you again, I could come home.”
“Then touch me,” I say, holding out my hand.
Instead of reaching for it, he leans toward me as if he would kiss me. I do the same, mirroring him, still hoping beyond all reason that if I wanted it badly enough, our lips would touch. But just as we should have made contact if we were real to each other, morning is here. I wake up.
It’s not enough time.
LATER THAT MORNING
The Surface. The Java Hut.
I ran my fingers over my head so many times, I was surprised there wasn’t a huge pile of hair on the floor next to my booth. Jack was barely there last night. Barely there! I knew the dreams kept him alive, but it only worked when he was actually there, didn’t it? If I was losing him even with entire nights of dreaming about him, how much faster would he slip away with only a few minutes together?
The waitress at the Java Hut noticed my agitation and slipped over to top off my coffee mug. As if more caffeine would help. But I didn’t stop her. The crowd was sparse today, probably because of the record-high temperatures and the fact that the Java Hut didn’t do iced beverages. Or air conditioning.
I checked my watch. If Will was any later, I’d slip into a caffeine coma. That didn’t make any sense, I know, but nothing in my life was right side up. And last night … last night Jack and I had only seconds together, during which he couldn’t even see. I couldn’t keep him alive in such a short time. I couldn’t keep him alive. Tears welled up in my eyes and began to spill over onto my cheeks.
I was losing him. Every second put him further and further out of my reach.
An ache on my scalp brought me back to the present. If I wasn’t careful, I’d be bald soon. I sipped my Kona Roast coffee, closing my eyes as I inhaled the scent. Jack and I used to wonder if the Java Hut put some sort of drug in it to make it smell so good. One whiff and you had to have it.
I put my mug down, leaned back on the bench, and waited. The front door squeaked, and Will walked in, a pair of dark sunglasses perched on the bridge of his nose. The glasses couldn’t hide the red beneath his eyes.
“How’d it go with Cole?” he mumbled, sliding into the spot across from me and keeping his glasses in place even though we were inside.
I reached toward his face and tugged on the sunglasses until I could see his bloodshot eyes. He pulled back and pushed them up. “Will,” I said.
“You can’t exactly blame me, considering everything.”
I pressed my lips together, worried that my impulsive dash to the Everneath had caused the relapse. “But … you were doing so well—”
“Stop, Becks. Let’s take inventory of our priorities. First, go to the Underworld and save my brother. Second, don’t die while doing it. Third, start a grassroots campaign to add diversity to the state’s conservative legislature. Fourth, then maybe tackle my excessive drinking.” I frowned, and he leaned forward. “Thank you for caring. But you know we don’t have time for it. Tell me how it went with Cole.”
I took a deep breath, wondering how to describe my conversation with Cole, when really it was very simple. “He says he won’t come with me. And I don’t know what to do.”
At this, Will was quiet. It was hard to read his expression with those sunglasses on. I reached over and gently removed them, and this time he let me.
He folded his arms and rested his elbows on the table. “So there’s no way to do this without Cole.”
I shook my head. “Unless you can find me another Everliving I can charm to the point where he’ll help me save my boyfriend. No, Cole is the only one I ever imagined I had any influence over, and apparently it’s not as strong a pull as I thought.”
“I wouldn’t discount your control over him. He spent six months trying to convince you he loved you. I don’t think it was all a lie.”
“I wouldn’t bet on it. He’s thrown me out twice now.”
The waitress set a mug of coffee in front of Will. “So let’s think about it. What do you have to bargain with? What does he want more than anything else?”
I paused even though I knew without a doubt what he wanted more than anything. Jack had asked me the same thing months ago. Will knew it too. He knew it before he even asked the question. It was as true now as it was before. “Me,” I said. “He wants me to become an Everliving and overthrow the queen. But what am I supposed to do? Promise him I’ll become his queen if we save Jack?”
Will shook his head. “You and Jack can’t keep going back and forth sacrificing yourselves for each other. You know what it would do to him if you saved him at the cost of your own life.”
I looked down at the table, at the ring of liquid my coffee mug had made there. I knew exactly how that would feel. I was feeling it right now. It didn’t solve anything.
Will leaned forward, placing his elbows on the table. “What if we discarded the carrot approach and went with the whip instead?”
“Huh?”
“What if instead of dangling a carrot—you—in front of him to get him to move, we push him from behind. Threaten him somehow.”
“How? He’s hidden the real pick. We’ll never find it. And, come to think of it, we still don’t know if breaking his pick would destroy him. What do we have?”
He looked down sheepishly. “Let’s threaten to take away—permanently—the one thing he wants most.” He raised his eyes. “Despite everything that’s happened, you’re still his best chance for the throne. We don’t have to give him you. We just have to make him think he’s going to lose you for good. We make him think you’re going to the Everneath no matter what. If he believes you might disappear forever … he’ll fold.”
I thought about the night before at the club, how Cole had thrown me out. “I don’t think he’d go just to save me.”
“He did it two days ago.”
“But that was because I didn’t know what I was doing. If I went again, knowing exactly what would happen … I think he’d say good riddance.”
“Becks, how long has he been searching for someone who could survive the Feed?”
I shrugged. “He said thousands of years. But I don’t know how literal that was.”
“And now he’s finally found you. Do you think he’d really let you go? Sit back and watch his one chance for the throne disappear and never come back?” He shook his head. “No way. If we let him think you’re going to the Everneath tonight … with or without him …” He paused. “He’d cave.”
I thought about it. “But I don’t have his hair or his fingernail or anything.”
“He doesn’t know that. Weren’t you in his dressing room?”
“Yes.”
“Would it be so crazy to tell him you grabbed a hair there?”
We both leaned back and thought for a few minutes. The ceiling fans circled above, providing just enough breeze to keep us from sweating. Soft ukulele music played in the background.
And we were contemplating a bluff against an Everliving.
“He flat-out told me he’d never save me again.”
“Let’s see if he was serious.”
I leaned toward Will, taking in his bloodshot eyes. “How are you thinking so clearly?”
His lips twitched. “I’m not. But I thought about it last night. Before I started drinking.”
“Okay,” I said.
“Okay what?”
“Okay, I’ll do it.”
He frowned, as if my finally agreeing to the plan made him question what we were doing. But he didn’t say anything other than “Okay.”
Lunchtime brought a steady stream of people, definitely locals who were particular about their coffee. Will and I sat in the same booth all morning, talking it out.
We decided a phone call to Cole would be the best way to start the ball rolling.
“How much time are you going to give him?” Will asked.
I thought about my dream last night. My eyes met his. “Six hours.”
“What?!”
“You said tonight. I’ll give him six hours.” I looked at my phone. “Till tonight at seven o’clock.”