Dean wrapped around Kane, swinging him away from the drop and holding him steady. And good thing; otherwise Kane was sure he would have burned apart, just a million embers scattered over East Amity as he fell.
Through the phone, Adeline’s voice might as well have been cast from another world. Already Kane could hear the telltale whisper of etherea swallowing her up as she quickly tried to give him the details.
“I told you to let me erase her memories of the Beazley Affair. I told you. Her mind was vulnerable, and then you ran off tonight, and she fucking snapped. It’s all in her messages. She felt her reverie taking over. She called all of us, and when no one answered, she drove herself to the complex to find us. I have no idea how she made it that far, but that’s where it took her down. Somewhere in the complex. And now she’s in there, and she’s alone, and…”
Whispering static swallowed Adeline’s voice.
“Where?” Kane cried. “Tell me where!”
Adeline’s voice faded in and out.
“You can’t let her in,” Adeline hissed. “You can’t allow Poesy to get her, too.”
The line cut off, leaving Kane to stare down the litany of messages that had been building up while his phone was off. Sophia had called him, over and over. In her messages, her voice was barely audible against that same, horrible whispering.
“Kane, I’m here at the complex. Just pick up. Please pick up. I’m here. Something bad is happening to me. The buildings are breathing. I’m lost. I feel—”
And from there her screams merged into the undulating static, the line going dead with a polite boop, just like Adeline.
She was gone. Lost to her reverie. All while Kane and Dean sat atop a bridge, talking, watching over the exact location where Sophia’s reverie had formed: the Cobalt Complex.
Kane shoved Dean off him, nearly losing his balance on the girder. “Where is Poesy?”
“Her sanctuary. If she knew about the new reverie, she would have already summoned me, but she’ll be expecting me to return soon either way.”
“Can she enter without the whistle letting her in?”
“Yes, but the whistle is her shortcut.”
Did Adeline still have the whistle? Kane could barely think. There was no logic to any of this. It was all unreal, but it all mattered.
“Distract her. Make sure she doesn’t find out what’s going on. Teleport me to the reverie’s edge, but make sure you don’t get too close.”
Dean reached for Kane. “I can help you from the inside.”
“I don’t want your help inside,” Kane snapped, remembering the violence of the Dreadmare annihilating Helena’s precious creatures. He couldn’t subject Sophia to that pain. “I don’t want you anywhere close to my sister’s reverie. Or did you forget you’re still a nightmare?”
Dean pressed forward. “I’m not losing you again, Kane.”
Kane’s fury ignited. “This isn’t about me! It’s about my sister!” Kane choked on the words, on his regret. The last thing time he’d talked to Sophia was in that gas station, in front of the stupid blue Slurpee machine. “All you care about is what you lost.”
“You’re wrong,” Dean shouted back.
“And you’re nothing.”
It echoed out over the river, breaking the peaceful night. Kane breathed around the knot in his throat. “You’re nothing but Poesy’s pet nightmare. If you want to help me, get in Poesy’s way and get out of mine. I’m not running away from this.”
Resolve started in Dean’s eyes, smoothing him out as it passed through his long limbs, until he was back to the stoic, distant boy Kane had first met. He pulled the chess piece from his pocket and with a whisper it unwound into a silent storm of black ivy. The magic weaved over him, until the black-armored knight stood in his place.
This time, when the Dreadmare reached for Kane’s hand, Kane took it, grasping the smooth leather for half a breath before it flung him into the in-between and whatever lay beyond.
Kane walked into the reverie alone.
This time, when he came to, he was standing in a ragged breach carved into the side of ruined skyscraper. He swayed above a perilous drop of pure darkness. There was no one to keep him from falling, so he sunk down, held on tight, and faced the world Sophia had created.
It was nighttime in the reverie, but dawn glistened upon the utmost edge of a far-off sea. The scene before Kane was a futuristic city. Buzzing neon signs hovered over bladelike buildings, casting grainy colors into the low clouds so that the city lay cradled in a dreamlike, candied haze. Whirring aircraft dipped through the clouds, their spotlights sweeping the streets below, and far off in a residential district there were sirens. But that was the only noise. The city returned the echoes with silence that felt more than indifferent. It felt enforced.
There was a curfew, and someone had just broken it.
Kane drew into the breach, turning to explore the wrecked skyscraper. It was full of forgotten junk, as though abandoned midway. Graffiti covered everything. OUR SOCIETY IS A SCAM, read bloody letters. Another slogan said: KNOW THY UNHOLY HISTORIES.
The most vibrant graffiti was on the back wall: a glove, palm up, a moth alighting upon gently curled fingers. Beneath it in block letters was DAMNATIO MEMORIAE. All of it was brilliantly white against a panoply of flyers calling for the capture of a group called the Archivists. Kane grazed the graffiti with his fingers; the paint was fresh. Had his character done this?
A crash sounded in the depths of the building, and the cords in the elevator shaft whipped into a frenzy. Kane hid beneath an overturned desk, watching as the elevator lurched up to reveal, miraculously, Sophia. He stood up, not even thinking they might be enemies in this world.
“Brother!” Sophia cried. She wore a structured jacket and high-waisted slacks that made her look like a matador, and her hair was tucked up into a wide-brimmed hat. Her whole outfit was a deep, lusterless green, except for her gloves. They were so white they glowed, dazzling Kane as she clapped her hands over his face and said, “We have a most distinguished guest!”
In the elevator was the narrow shape of a girl. Adeline. She wore a gray shift dress and a gray headband. She was handcuffed, and the look she gave Kane meant he better not ask about it.
“You know I don’t usually fancy the Nobles, but I needed a hostage,” Sophia explained. “We’ll ditch her here for The Society to find. Those sirens are close. I’m sure they’ll be here any minute. You secured our extraction point, right? The fourth and fifth corridors are already locked down, but we can take the ninth to the bridge, then make our way to the harbor.” Sophia’s boots clicked as she strode to a mound of boxes in one corner. She ripped into them, pulling out cartridges of ammunition. Then she produced no fewer than five handguns from her jacket, which she began reloading with the ease of someone who held (and emptied) guns often. Kane thought one gun was an antique revolver, but then Sophia rolled several glowing orbs into the barrels. She pressed a button and the seams of the weapon glowed blue.